


Same Old Sad Sensation

by moonflowers



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Emotional Constipation, Fluff, Harry is a drama queen, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Me gleefully cramming in my OC knights, Mutual Pining, so very much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-07-21 19:44:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7401295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonflowers/pseuds/moonflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So there it was. Harry loved Eggsy. A fact he could look at with a sort of cool objectivity on good days. Though when he'd first had the realisation, he'd been rather less blasé about it, and he had the empty bottles to prove it. Once the shock had dissipated however, he utterly refused to let it take hold of him again.<br/>For Eggsy, falling in love with Harry had been quiet. <em>Falling</em> wasn't the right word either, that made it sound sudden and jolting and harsh. It was more like slipping into love. Easing into love. Slow and comfortable, no big crashing moment of realisation like there always was in the movies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started a new thing, even though I'm still deep in the WW2 AU and have my Secret Santa fic to do.  
> I wanted to write a fic alongside this song (Bewitched Bothered and Bewildered) for another ship a while back, but never quite got there. There's loads of versions/interpretations of it, but the one in my head while I was writing was Rufus Wainwright's from The History Boys. It's also on the list of things I'd like to hear Taron sing, fyi.

_He's a fool and don't I know it_  
_But a fool can have his charms,_  
_I'm in love, and I don't I show it?_  
_Like a babe in arms._

~

Harry didn't do love. Not these days, at any rate. He'd been in love, or believed himself to be, once or twice in the past - his best friend from school and a beautiful exchange student he'd spent several dizzying months with at university being the most notable - but it had seemed a rather redundant feature in recent years, like a television with a VCR still attached. He functioned just fine without it. Though to say that Harry didn't love at all wasn't true either. He had a small group of fiercely loyal friends, admittedly mainly comprised of other Kingsman employees, who he felt a great many things for - exasperation being the most common, but also love, in one way or another. Horrifying as it was to admit, he supposed he loved Merlin, though he'd bloody well die before saying _that_ out loud. There was a smattering of acquaintances, from his school days mostly, and old army contacts that he couldn't bring himself to cut off completely, as he maybe should have. A few family members he purposely kept at a distance for their own benefit, who he didn't see often but predominantly enjoyed the time he snatched with them when the opportunity came about. He'd certainly loved his dog. No, Harry was not a lonely man, despite outside appearances, nor was he unloved. It was romantic love that he eluded. 

He was a firm advocate of sex however, though these days he didn't take the chance to indulge as often as he used to. It had been a fair while now, actually, since he'd last fucked anybody. He could probably recall the exact date if he cared to, but that only made his state of affairs seem rather more pathetic. And even back in the days when a majority of his time between the sheets hadn't been spent sleeping, he'd always ensured he had a get out clause to hand to ensure his inevitable escape ran smoothly.  
Not this time, though. This time, he was having trouble extricating himself because he had been so thoroughly unprepared for it. To make matters worse, it wasn't simply an ill-advised sexual partner he felt the need to flee from, but the very thing he'd been evading the past twenty years, give or take. And then came the more troubling question of whether he truly wanted to rid himself of it. But _want_ was not the issue. He needed to put an end to it, whether he wanted to or not.

~

"Did you know there was gunna be this much paperwork before you said _yes please_ to being Arthur?"

Harry looked up to where Eggsy was holding court in the chair on the other side of his desk, sprawled and perfectly at home, frowning as he rifled through a stack of expense forms he probably shouldn't have even been permitted to see. He was biting at his lower lip in concentration, rolling it gently between his teeth as he flipped the pages back and forth, eyes narrowed. "There's not an awful lot for me to do, really," Harry said absently, peering with disappointment into his empty tea mug, "other people do all the legwork, I just read it through and sign my name where Merlin tells me to."

"Sounds ideal bruv," Eggsy flicked him a smile and dropped the forms into a messy pile on the desk, "I'd give my left nut for someone else to write up my mission reports."

"That would rather defeat the object, I'm afraid."

"A bloke can dream," Eggsy said, flipping open his laptop to continue one of the aforementioned dreaded reports, this time from a brief trip to Portugal the previous week. He'd caught the sun over his short time away - the freckles across the bridge of his nose were more pronounced, and had made Harry lose his train of thought more than once over the past few days as he wondered what it would be like if he were permitted to kiss them.

"Yes," Harry cleared his throat and forced himself to look back to his own work, though it was hard to focus on the numbers and his fingers felt a little numb, "yes he can."

It was something of a habit they'd fallen into, doing their paperwork together. After one too many times of Harry turning down an offer of lunch, or calling to say he'd be late for the evening drinks they'd planned, Eggsy had stomped into his office, laptop in hand, and informed Harry that they'd be doing 'all that boring shit' together from now on. _"Never bloody see you, otherwise,"_ Eggsy had muttered, and made himself at home in the spare chair opposite. Harry never had the heart nor inclination to ask him to go - it might have been more sensible in the long run, but he was too selfish, enjoyed Eggsy's company too much to put an end to it. 

They'd been working in silence for half an hour or so, nothing but the tapping of keys and the odd tut of annoyance, when Eggsy huffed and stood up. Harry looked to him in question but he didn't seem to notice, eyes closed as he lifted his arms above his head to stretch the long, thick lines of his body, all gold and shadows in the late afternoon sun. Though he rather ruined the charming picture he made with the uncouth habit of cracking his neck.

"Tea?" he said, not waiting for an answer before he swiped Harry's cup, "you was looking angry at your mug half an hour ago, you must be gagging for it by now."

"...Quite." In all honesty, he'd grown used to all manner of obscenities falling from Eggsy's wicked, pretty mouth, and often gave as good as he got in return. But occasionally the odd phrase would catch him off guard, make his stomach jolt and his neck warm, his hands desperate to catch hold of Eggsy and push him against a wall.

"Back in a sec, yeah?" Eggsy turned to make his way to the small break room along the corridor, his own pug covered mug and the pirate themed one he'd given to Harry at Christmas - _"thank you for being so sensitive about my losing an eye, Eggsy"_ \- in hand. He preferred teacups to mugs in all honesty, but when he'd been working for fourteen hours straight, or when an agent went MIA, or whatever villain of the month was holding the world to ransom, he found he wasn't all that fussed about what he drank his tea out of. 

"Eggsy?"

"Mm?" He span to look back at Harry, eyes sleepy but wide in question, hair mussed from running his fingers through it while he worked, tie lop-sided, biscuit crumbs on his chin and a half-faded bruise across his cheek. Bugger. 

"Don't put any - "

"Sugar in yours?" Eggsy interrupted with a grin. "I know, I've read the doctor's report." He whipped out of the door before Harry could reprimand him for snooping into his private business.

So there it was. He loved Eggsy. A fact he could look at with a sort of cool objectivity on good days. Though when he'd first had the realisation, he'd been rather less blasé about it, and he had the empty bottles to prove it. Once the shock had dissipated however, Harry utterly refused to let it take hold of him again. He'd been through hell and high water over the past three decades, any number of life-threatening situations you could think of, and he wasn't about to let this of all things trip him up. He refused to succumb to it - it would pass, as all things did. He was too old, too out of practice, his life expectancy too short for love. These were the excuses he laid out for himself anyway, neat and precise as laying out a suit for the morning. But despite his grim determination to do nothing about it and wait for it to run it's course, Eggsy remained charmingly, imperfectly perfect in everything that he did, and it was steadily becoming harder for Harry to keep himself in check. Not all things improved with practice, it turned out. Worse still, was when he caught Eggsy eyeing him with the soft, fond sort of look that Harry imagined he was completely undeserving of, and let himself wonder if Eggsy felt something similar for him. That was when he'd slam the metaphorical door on that line of thinking, and flounce off to the shooting range or the pool to lose his thoughts to the thick silence of headphones or being underwater. But really, it was of little importance how Eggsy felt - Harry couldn't allow it to happen regardless. The shameful truth of it was, he was too scared to let it happen.

~

It was the afternoon of a rather unremarkable Tuesday, and Harry had taken himself down to the shooting gallery to let off a little steam. Eggsy was in Ireland for the next two days and his absence was making Harry unusually irritable, which in turn led to Merlin shooting him furtive little looks as though he wanted to ask if he was alright, which was beginning to irk him even further. Harry was losing his touch, it seemed. 

After he'd marched down to the gallery and let himself in, it quickly became apparent there was somebody else already there. Bloody wonderful. Although a majority of the others would no doubt leave him to get on with it without interference, the mere presence of another person soured his mood further still. To his mild relief though, it was Kay. If anyone was willing to let his sulking slide without comment, it would be Kay, a staunch believer of minding one's own business. He had an old gunshot wound on his hand that made it cramp and twitch and wreak havoc with his normally stellar shooting ability, and it was well known he liked to get in as many hours as he could. Not that practice would ever improve it, but it brought the man some peace of mind, apparently. He nodded respectfully to Harry in greeting.  
He had been Percival's proposal to fill one of the gaps left by V-Day, a rare internal promotion. A sullen man, with a tendency to brood and perhaps lacking in one or two gentlemanly qualities, but a good man and an even better agent. He'd been working for Kingsman for years - getaway driver, clean up crew, an intimidating presence - he'd tried his hand at a bit of everything, and proved himself more than competent. It was likely only his working class background that had prevented him from being knighted sooner. Fortunately, Harry had no such prejudices as the old Arthur had done.

Harry returned his greeting with a tight smile, before setting himself up to shoot. He forgot about everything for a short time as he emptied bullets into the paper targets. It emptied his head of Eggsy, of the boy's quick wit, casual touches and breath that smelled of Polo mints, of his foolish fears of his own sentiment, of Merlin's wry glances and Lancelot's careful politeness, of his empty house that he had once been content with and was quickly growing to resent, and of the other man standing a few feet away. That was until his eye started to play up, as it was prone to of late, the area all around the old wound alternating between prickling and aching, refusing to abate no matter how much he tried to blink it away. His next few shots veered off course, and he was forced to stop. He yanked off his headphones to relieve some of the pressure, resisting the urge to rub at his thrice-damned eye. 

"You're in love sir," Kay said, pulling off his headphones and scratching at his resilient stubble, with no more gravity than if he'd asked Harry what he was planning on having for dinner. 

Harry fumbled minutely as he reloaded the gun, unable to come up with any reply better than a taken aback "I beg your pardon?" 

"You've fallen for someone, and you aren't dealing with it very well, if you don't mind my saying," he said in his flat, Mancunian drawl, eyeing his near perfect target scores with boredom.

"What on earth gives you the right to - " Harry began his admonishment, half-hearted at best, before relenting. If he had to talk to anyone about this, Kay was probably one of the lesser evils. A surprising candidate for Harry to unload his emotional baggage onto, but potentially less mortifying than several others. And he'd already neatly cut out the part where Harry had to make the admission himself. So he sighed, and resigned himself to the conversation he'd been avoiding for months. "What gave me away?"

Kay shrugged, checked the safety was on. "I've been there. Easy to spot on other people after that."

"What did you do?" Harry said, defensive and a little more tartly than he'd meant to, still smarting at having been read so easily.

"I loved them, they didn't love me," he said matter-of-factly. "There were only so many ways it could go." 

"Ah. I see." Offering his condolences seemed rather too late and more than a little trite, and they would no doubt be unwelcome anyway. Kay wasn't one for unnecessary frills. "Then what advice would you give me?"

"Don't wait around, sir," Kay finally set down the gun and gave Harry his full attention, gaze placid but steady. "It didn't end happily for me when they found out, but it ended, and that were for the best. The months of uncertainty and torturing myself over it weren't worth the end result. I've always thought I should've done it sooner, saved myself the time."

"Right." It wasn't what he wanted to hear of course, but want and need were very different creatures. 

"'Course, I'm not saying it'll end badly for you sir, but it's better to know for certain, I think. Then, whatever the answer, you can get on with things." He hefted his sports bag onto his shoulder, clearly having felt he'd said his piece. 

"Very sensible." A bit of a practical and clinical way of looking it perhaps, but the life of a Kingsman didn't leave an awful lot of room for sentimentality."Well I - thank you, I suppose."

"You're welcome, sir."

"You needn't call me that anymore you know, now you're a knight," Harry said. "Arthur will do just fine."

"I know." Kay gave him a tight, close-lipped smile, before stalking off back upstairs, and leaving Harry at even more of a loss than he had been.

~

_Men are not a new sensation_  
_I've done pretty well I think,_  
_But this half-pint imitation_  
_Put me on the blink._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Kay is Rob James-Collier, his past failed romance shamelessly stolen from his character Thomas' storyline on Downton Abbey. I just can't let it go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switching it up to Eggsy's PoV this chapter, and more OC knights elbowing their way in.

_Lost my heart but what of it_  
_He is cold, I agree._  
_He can laugh but I love it_  
_Although the laugh's on me._

~

Everything in Eggsy’s life so far had been loud. Engines revving, sirens, his stepdad’s shouting and glass breaking on concrete, his little sister’s laughter, thudding bass in a club, gunfire and the roaring rush of air jumping out of a plane. He was pretty sure that love was loud too, all pounding hearts and screamed declarations and sighs of ecstasy. But falling in love with Harry had been quiet. _Falling_ wasn’t the right word either, that made it sound sudden and jolting and harsh. It was more like slipping into love. _Easing_ into love. Slow and comfortable, no big crashing moment of realisation like there was in the movies. It just happened, steady and inevitable, a little bit more every day so slight he barely noticed. When he thought about it, it’d probably started long before Harry came back from Kentucky, maybe even the day he’d busted Eggsy out of the police station, as daft as that sounded. But he hadn’t paid much attention to it until months later, a day sunny but unremarkable, when he’d looked across the lawn to see Harry and Merlin talking, laughing at some unknown memory, and thought _oh. That’s what this is._ Actually forget it, that was just as fucking cliche as any other type of love for fuck’s sake. 

Being in love was all very well and good, when you were sure the other person loved you back. And Eggsy was pretty fucking sure that wasn't the case. Harry no doubt felt a lot of things for him, mostly good and noble and whatever, but not _that._ Even if he did, it made no difference - Eggsy couldn't do anything about it, because he was undeserving of someone he admired as much as he did Harry. Don't get him wrong, it wasn't some fucked up low self-esteem shit, he was proud of what he'd made of his life and where he was, but Harry was different. If it was just a shag, he would've already tried it on just to get it out of his system, and he suspected Harry might've said yes and all, if the way he caught him looking him over every once in a while was anything to go by. But this wasn't just a shag, and Harry wasn't just anyone, and it was one more rejection in the long list of Eggsy's mostly shite existence up to this point that he wouldn't be risking any time soon, ta very much. 

~

"What do you mean you ain't never been on a proper date?" Eggsy said, incredulous and only half teasing. "Look at you mate, you're a stunner."

Flora - the recently knighted Geraint - shrugged in reply, the movement awkward from where she was lying stretched out on the sloping lawn outside the Kingsman manor. She was relatively new to the table, having filled one of the three knight positions left open after the utter fuck up that had been V-Day. She was quiet but clever, an excellent sniper and fucking hilarious when she wanted to be. "I don't know," she said, eyes closed against the sun, "nobody ever asked, and I don't think I've ever wanted them too either." Her parents consisted of a Scottish father and Caribbean mother, giving her an unusual but pleasant lilting accent that she worked hard to cover up on missions, it being so distinctive. Shame really, she had a lovely voice.

Eggsy nodded. "Fair enough then, I s'pose."

"Honestly Eggsy, leave the poor woman alone," Roxy said from his other side, hurling a tennis ball across the grass for the three dogs to madly dash after, squinting in the bright afternoon as she watched the pug, poodle and spaniel trip over each other in their haste. "She already has to deal with that sort of shit from Freddie, she doesn't need it from you."

"Mate, don't compare me to that twat," he said darkly, although she did have a point. "I didn't mean to be a dick bruv, sorry." 

"I know," Flora said simply. "Have you?"

"Err... Have I what?" he said, blinking slowly, completely lost.

She leant back on her elbows, grinning wickedly at him from under her sunglasses. "Have you ever been on a 'proper' date?"

"I - " He hesitated. Probably not, to be honest. Most of his romantic endeavours had been a lot more spontaneous, the sort that started and ended on the same night out in a club. Some occasions were a bit more preemptive - he might've shared the odd can of coke and bag of chips with some girl or another before having a fumble in the park, but he was fairly sure that wouldn't make the cut as a 'proper' date. He'd definitely been bought drinks before, by blokes who sent him appraising looks across the bar, normally followed by dancing and almost always by a blowie in the loo or the car park. Fuck, it sounded pretty grim when he put it like that. "You've got me there," he eventually conceded with a smile. 

"I can't say you're missing out, particularly," said Roxy with a frown, taking the ball from Pankhurst the poodle when he proudly dropped it next to her on the grass. JB and Mabel the spaniel had gotten distracted, chasing each other with limited success around where the three agents sat. "I went on rather a lot of dates while I was at uni, and most of them were a total washout." She threw the ball with a bit more feeling than she had a moment ago. 

"How's that?" Eggsy asked. Rox had mentioned the odd old boyfriend now and then, but it didn't come up often, and he didn't like to prod her too much when she'd obviously rather not talk about it.

"I kept picking men I thought my mother would approve of," Roxy said dryly, "which meant I spent rather a lot of Saturday nights with various versions of Charlie Hesketh."

"Ouch," Eggsy shot her a commiserating smile, "rather you than me Rox."

"Charlie?" asked Flora.

"Like Freddie, but worse," said Roxy with a significant look.

"Ah." 

"I think I'd quite like to give proper dating a go," Eggsy said, partly to lighten the mood and partly because he meant it. "See what all the fuss is about."

"Oh?" Said Roxy, smirking at him as Pankhurst waited patiently for her to throw the ball. Eggsy had no idea where JB had fucked off to, the little traitor. "Have someone in mind, do you?"

"Nah," Eggsy laughed it off and ignored the pointed look of disbelief Roxy gave him for his trouble. "Just curious. Trying new things and all," he gestured to the manor and surrounding grounds, "what's one more change after all this?"

"Eggsy - "

"Oi oi," he interrupted, grinning when he spotted a figure walking towards them, glad of the distraction, "got a possible candidate for Flo here though."

"Who is - oh good grief," Flora followed his gaze to see Freddie - codename Tristan - sauntering down from the manor towards them. As different as Flora might be from a majority of the knights who'd served under Chester, Freddie was just like the old lot, because some things didn't change overnight and sometimes the posh wankers still turned out to be the best for the job. Unfortunately. 

"You utter tosspot," Flora hissed and swiped at Eggsy's arm as the other knight approached.

"Good afternoon, ladies."

Eggsy wasn't sure if Freddie was purposely ignoring him, or attempting to be funny by implying he was a lady. Whichever it was meant to be, he just looked a knob. 

"Tristan," Roxy greeted him with cool politeness.

"What d'you want?" Eggsy gave him no such courtesy.

Freddie flinched minutely in irritation at Eggsy's gruff greeting, but didn't say anything about it - as much as he obviously disliked it, Eggsy was more senior than him and was more likely to win if it came to blows, and he knew it. "I was looking for Geraint, actually," he shifted his attention to Flora, "I wondered if you might like to spar with me."

"Not particularly," Flora said flatly.

"I'm trying to work the strength back up in my wrist after I - it got broken," he flushed slightly. Roxy had been the one to break it, allegedly by accident, when the two had been sent on a training exercise to Cumbria. Eggsy had laughed himself sick and bought Roxy a pint. 

"Fine," Flora gave a long-suffering sigh and stood up, brushing loose grass from her suit trousers, "give me a moment to change and I'll be right with you."

"Excellent." He nodded, gave them all a stiff smile, and strode back up to the manor.

"No doubt he wouldn't give us any peace until I said yes," Flora huffed a stray curl of hair out of her eyes. "You two owe me."

"Right you are mate," Eggsy said, "get in a few good hits for me, yeah?"

"Naturally," she waved them off and followed Freddie back up to the house.

"Be honest with me Eggsy," Roxy said when she'd gone, "you and Freddie would have phenomenal hate sex," Straight to the point as ever Rox, _Jesus._

Eggsy snorted, flopped back on the grass, and hoped it wouldn't leave green scuffs on his shirt. "Yeah maybe. Seen enough of 'im in the shower to know I wouldn't kick him out of bed." JB scuttled over to lick and sniff at his face, bored now Mabel had gone after her mistress. "Ugh, JB," he winced and half-heartedly pushed him away, though the pug ignored him and tried to clamber up onto his chest instead. "Pretty unlikely though, considering he's definitely a twat and almost definitely only into birds." His less than subtle approach at winning Flora's favour made that clear enough, not that he was going to get anywhere. 

"And that you're in love with somebody else," said Roxy breezily.

"I don't know what you - " Eggsy started automatically, before remembering that he was with _Roxy,_ who he spent a majority of his time with whether he was at work or not, and had inevitably let the odd thing slip when he was off his guard or having a bad day. "Yeah," he sighed in defeat, "that too."

"It isn't going to go away by itself, Eggsy."

"I know that," he bit out, frustrated. "We've been through this before Rox, nothing's changed. It ain't that easy, yeah?"

"Yes I know," she said, annoyingly patient, "but you can't let it carry on like this, you have to do something. I hate seeing you so - " she paused, searching for the right word and not finding it. "Please speak to him."

"Oh _come on_ Rox - "

"And don't you dare tell me you're not good enough again," she said fiercely, "I'm not afraid to slap some sense into you, Unwin."

"Alright, alright," he held a hand up in defeat. "I won't. It's just - " he chewed at his lip, trying to think of the best way to say what bothered him the most about the whole thing. "We've got a good thing going, yeah? After all the shit that - we're friends again. And I don't want to take a chance for something else and fuck it up." 

"Eggsy - "

"And what if he says yes, and then _it is_ just a fuck to him, and then I'm even worse off than I am already?" he blurted, unable to stop his list of half-irrational fears once he'd got going. "What if he thinks I'm a fuckin' creep, and stops talking to me altogether?"

"He wouldn't do that, and you know it," Roxy said quietly. "And you say 'what if' an awful when it comes to him. It's not like you at all."

"Your point?" he said moodily.

"Eggsy, this might be something worth taking a chance over. And if not, then at least you'll know how he feels about it and you can go from there, for better or worse. You don't wear uncertainty very well, Eggsy, and it'll only get worse the longer you dither."

"You make it sound simple."

"Mm."

"It's not."

"I know."

They sat in silence a little while, warm breeze playing over their faces and through their hair, the hot prickle where he'd caught the sun on the back of his neck, JB panting softly where he lay squashed up to Eggsy's side. It was Roxy who spoke first.

"Want to go to the gym and watch Flora kick the shit out of Tristan?"

"...Yeah."

They inevitably joined in the sparring, all four ending up sweaty and aching and pleased with themselves for landing certain hits. Even Freddie was less of a prick after he'd gone a few rounds, focused on what he was doing rather than constantly trying to one up Eggsy or impress Flora. 

And if, when Eggsy climbed into the shower afterwards, his thoughts turned to the rare occasions he'd talked Harry into sparring with him, then so be it. The times he was permitted to touch Harry without feeling like it was stolen, and not enough. The times when he and Harry had thrown their whole weight into every strike, each landing blows and blocking in their turn, circling each other and biding their time - Harry stone-faced and Eggsy smirking - neither willing to give their next move away. Eggsy's chest thumped with anticipation as he turned on the water, just as it did when he faced Harry across the mat. The firm warmth of Harry's torso under his hand as he landed a hit, his hot breath on Eggsy’s neck when he pinned him to the floor, his slim waist between Eggsy’s thighs when he curled around Harry and flipped them over, grinning down at him in victory. Only it never felt an awful lot like he'd won, when he had to clamber off him again and pretend he was unaffected. Eggsy stretched out his aching arms, pausing to check the others had left the showers, and turned the water up hotter.

~

"Eggsy?"

"Mm?"

"If you insist on watching this nonsense, could you at least do me the courtesy of sitting still," Harry shot a meaningful glance to where Eggsy was jogging his leg up and down as they sat in Harry's living room, "it's terribly distracting."

"Sorry," he said vaguely, making the effort to still his leg and looking back to where the latest episode of _I'm A Celebrity_ was on telly, a minor MP attempting to fish something out of a tankful of bloody big spiders. 

"Thank you," Harry said dryly, but with a small smile, the one he saved for when Eggsy was being a total pain in the arse, but it seemed to somehow incite fondness rather than irritation. Eggsy fucking _lived_ for those smiles. After that, page three girls and retired footballers eating kangaroo bollocks didn't seem quite so entertaining. 

So he watched Harry instead.

He was sitting in the armchair, across from where Eggsy was sprawled on the sofa. One leg was crossed nearly over the other, ankle resting on his knee, charcoal wool of his suit trousers pulled tight over his thigh and stretching at the inseam. His tie was loosened, shirtsleeves rolled up in reluctant acknowledgement of the end of the work day, precious inches of bare skin that were normally covered up. In the gap between trouser leg and Oxfords, there was a sliver of sock visible - black with tiny green spots. Eggsy had bought them for him, in an attempt get him to loosen up a little bit. Baby steps and all. Not that Eggsy would ever tire of seeing him all smart and buttoned up, mind. His glasses were at the end of his nose as he read the evening paper, sun from the window behind him catching on the lens and bouncing onto the wallpaper, ends of his hair curling from a day held in check by strict styling.  
It wasn't just that Harry was easy on the eyes though. It was... fuck knows. It was how he hummed absentmindedly when he fastened his cufflinks, it was how his eyes always went straight to Eggsy when he entered a room, it was the way he was grumpy before his first cup of tea in the morning, how he took any opportunity to dog-sit that came his way and how he swore like a sailor but told Eggsy off for being vulgar, his collection of trashy newspapers and neglected house plants, it was how Eggsy wanted to climb up into his lap right now, press his fingertips to his sun-warmed face and kiss his cheek. Fuck.

"Eggsy?"

"Yep?" He answered too quickly, shifted his gaze guiltily back to the telly.

Harry blinked at him, but chose not to pass comment. "Will you be staying for dinner?"

"Of fucking course," Eggsy made himself relax and shot him a wink, "your turn to buy, innit?"

~

_I'll sing to him, each spring to him,_  
_And worship the trousers that cling to him,_  
_Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, I am officially naming Roxy's poodle Pankhurst in all of my fics from now on.  
> If you want visuals, in my head Geraint is Antonia Thomas, and Tristan is Freddie Fox. Might have been a little uninventive with the naming there.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to take a couple of hours this morning, but it took me all day my god. Also there's a disproportionate amount of taxidermy in this chapter.

_After one whole quart of brandy_  
_Like a daisy I'm awake,_  
_With no bromo-seltzer handy_  
_I don't even shake._

~

As much as Harry knew he shouldn't just disappear without informing Merlin where he planned to go at the very least, he'd given himself the afternoon off, and driven out into the country. He was sodding _Arthur,_ if the position didn't come with a little more leniency, then what on earth was the point. Besides, they'd be able to find him easily enough if needs be. He'd made the decision to take some time to himself that morning when he'd arrived at the shop, and an unusually tense-looking Eggsy had asked if he wanted to join him for breakfast in the dining room. Harry had brushed the offer aside, knowing full well that sitting through something even so commonplace with the boy would be a struggle that morning, given how poorly he'd slept and how difficult he found it to look away from where Eggsy was chewing at his lip as he awaited Harry's reply. Eggsy'd seemed horribly disappointed when Harry turned him down, though he'd smiled and said he'd catch him another day. Harry had felt an utter twat, and hurriedly barricaded himself in his office to stew and eat an entire packet of ginger biscuits, since he'd managed to lose out on breakfast too due to his cowardice.

It was then, as he guiltily wiped biscuit crumbs from his fingers, that Harry decided to take the afternoon off. Perhaps if he had a few hours away from the background noise of Kingsman and the somehow deafening silence of his empty house, he'd be able to come to a rational conclusion about what needed to be done. On top of all the stress and indecision, he was bloody tired. He hadn't been sleeping quite so well after his little chat with Kay a few days ago, kept awake by a plague of what ifs and maybes that were made all the more daunting in the cover of dark. Ultimately, he knew he had to talk to Eggsy. But he needed a little more time to gather himself up, think of the best way to say it while inflicting minimal damage to them both and leaving his pride intact. That settled, he finished off his tea, and got going on his morning's work as best he could. 

~

He pulled up outside his chosen destination, an hour or so after lunch, having made the drive out of the city in relatively good time. In his younger days, he'd found the quiet of the country stifling, the dark reach of trees overhead and heavy earth underfoot dull and oppressive, and longed for the lights and bustle and noise of life in London. He wasn't ready to quit the city of course, but he could admit that he now found the countryside restful, almost pleasant in it's stillness, after seeing so much of the world. And there was no chance of him being disturbed, at his parents' house.  
His father had died some years back, and his mother had relocated to the south of France, from where they exchanged short and rare correspondence. The old place had been left in Harry's care, though he had little to do with it these days. From the outside it looked just the same, though the windows were in dire need of a clean and a tile or two had slipped free from the roof. Inside was similar, a little mouldy here and there and everything draped in dustsheets, but every ludicrous object of his childhood home was just as they'd left it. Family portraits going back to the eighteenth century stared down accusingly at him from their places on the dark walls, as if displeased he'd abandoned the home of his family so long. The stag heads mounted on the walls looked rather more menacing than usual when covered, sheets falling over the antlers in bizarre points and shadows. Only the feet of the fine furniture were visible, their silk cushions and fine carving covered and tucked away against time and the dust. 

Despite not having lived there for thirty years, Harry's feet carried him to the sitting room out of old habit. Everything in the room was just as well covered as in the hall - the oriental writing desk, the piano in the corner - but he refused to sit in the dark. He yanked the shutters open despite their creaking protests, unsettled dust swirling in the afternoon light that the room hadn't seen in the six years since his mother had shut the place up and left. The addition of sunlight made the wood panelling of the room decidedly less miserable looking, and Harry eased open a hidden compartment under the window seat where, in his poor health, his father had always kept a bottle of something without his mother's knowledge. Sure enough, a half-full decanter of brandy and some dusty glasses waited there for him. Dear old dad. 

He made himself comfortable in one of the chairs by the marble fireplace, frowning at the ugly piece of embroidery done by his grandmother still in place to hide the unused grate, and poured himself a drink. He'd barely taken a sip when he heard the floorboards across the room creak as someone walked through the door, caught a trace of the citrusy cologne he'd know anywhere, even through the musty smell of the house.

"Eggsy," Harry acknowledged, still looking at the garish and slightly motheaten marigolds stitched by his mother's mother, "you followed me." If he'd been in a less turbulent mood, he might've paid more attention to the car that had followed him at a discreet distance on the drive from HQ. Though frankly, he wasn't quite as surprised as he should've been. 

"The fuck is this place?" He turned to see Eggsy looking about, mouth gaping open in surprise and vague confusion as he crossed the opulent room, dust springing up from the thick rug under his feet, and gripped the back of the dustsheet-covered armchair opposite where Harry sat.

"Hart family residence," said Harry dryly, and took another sip of brandy.

"Shut up," Eggsy looked at him in delight before his eyes flicked back up to the chandelier. "I knew you was proper posh Harry, but _fuck."_

Harry's patience was wearing rather thin. He'd come here to be alone for Christ's sake, the last thing he needed was the very pinpoint of his dilemma traipsing after him, it was hardly conducive to him clearing his head. Though really, he should have known - it was _Eggsy,_ after all, and had their places been reversed Harry doubted very much he'd be able to rein in his curiosity and give the boy his space. "Aren't you meant to be at work?" He said tightly.

"Cut right to it why don't you Harry," Eggsy said under his breath, eyeing the tail of a stuffed fox where it poked out from under a dustsheet with distaste. "So you ain't the only one of your lot who gets a kick out of taxidermy then?" He rolled his eyes when Harry said nothing. "And I could say the same to you."

"I don't mean to be rude Eggsy - "

He snorted. "When you say that, it means you do."

"Eggsy - "

"Fine then, if you really want me to go, I'll just fuck off back to town and leave you here sulking with all your dead relatives and dead animals, alright?" His nose flared, face pink with irritation, eyes bright with it. Surely it was wrong that Harry should think he looked so lovely when he was clearly upset. "I'll try not to fall in the moat on my way out, yeah?"

"It's a ha-ha."

"What?" Eggsy's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"It's not a moat, it's a ha-ha. Stops livestock in the fields getting into the garden and such without hampering the view..." he trailed off, "as a fence might."

"...Posh people are fucking weird."

They regarded each other silently for a moment, wondering who would cave first. Surprisingly to both of them, it was Harry. "Well, if you're determined not to leave me in peace, get yourself a drink and sit down. There's only brandy, I'm afraid. I know you don't much care for it."

"It'll do me for now." Eggsy poured himself a generous measure, a hint that he was maybe more rattled than he was letting on, and perched on the edge of the other chair. He took a sip, wincing at the taste. If Harry kissed him perhaps, could he take the taste away? "So, you gonna tell me why I had to follow you all the way out here now, or later?"

Harry was about to point out that he hadn't _had_ to do anything of the sort and that it was actually rather invasive, but found he really didn't have the energy for it. His eye was beginning to ache after the drive, and he rubbed at his temple to ease it. "No." Not yet, at least.

Eggsy huffed, halfway between a laugh and a groan of exasperation, and flopped back to sprawl in the chair, a haze of dust displaced by the movement. "Alright, fine, Mr International Man of Mystery. If you don't wanna talk about that, then tell me about this place." He looked up to the moulded cornices around the ceiling, eyes following the sweep of glass beads on the chandelier - he seemed oddly fascinated by the gaudy old thing. 

"Alright," Harry decisively knocked back the last of his brandy, and stood. "Follow me." 

He took Eggsy around the empty house, cutting out a majority of the bedrooms as they were much of a muchness, and instead showed him things he thought might interest him - the hidden door in the library that led through to the billiard room, the priest hole in the drawing room, the stuffed crocodile his great grandfather had brought back from Africa (though Eggsy wasn't much impressed by it,) swords mounted on the wall in the hallway, and his old bedroom. Eggsy took great joy in rifling through the scant possessions he'd left behind, the old photographs from university and a small selection of clothes from his teenage years he'd rather forget.

They went outside and around to the back of the house where Eggsy again shook his head in incomprehension at the ha-ha, through the long-empty stables and the boat house left to rot. Dusk was drawing in when they walked through the gardens back up to the house, pale pink roses gleaming in the dim light, stray petals curled where they'd fallen on the grass and cool air heavy with their scent. The box hedges had long since grown out of shape and desperately needed a prune, rhododendrons running wild and clematis growing rampant over the walls. They paused by an ornamental pond, long since devoid of fish, and admired the lone waterlily that had managed to flower on the surface of the water otherwise choked by scum and dead leaves. Perhaps he should look into getting the placed spruced up a bit, if nothing else. 

"I always wanted a pet fish when I was little," Eggsy said, peering into the murky water, "one of the fat little gold ones, y'know? With coloured gravel and a plastic castle for him to live in..." he trailed off, and bent to poke at the single lily. 

Harry had always thought of Eggsy as a creature of the sun - warm body and warm soul alike, skin that turned gold easily under it's rays, dotted with freckles and hair lightening, perpetually high-spirited now he was allowed to be, kind-natured and bright. But evening suited him too - the cool blue of night drawing in in the summer made him ethereal, stark and pale against the darkening garden, lips and eyes made darker by the gloom, each curve and line of his face as delicate as the fine curls of the fallen rose petals. Good grief, he _was_ in trouble. Roses petals, honestly... 

"I don't reckon anything would want to live in _there_ though," Eggsy said abruptly, straightening up. "It's fucking rank."

Harry laughed softly in surprise. "Yes, I really ought to get it seen to."

"Now, are you gunna tell me what's messed you up enough to make you drive all the way out here to sulk, or what?" He arched an eyebrow expectantly, and Harry felt somewhat caught out, despite the fact he'd planned to tell him all the same.

"I suppose now is as good a time as any," he said, a little more stiffly than he'd intended.

"Out with it then, yeah? We ain't got all day."

"Alright then," he took a breath, hoped that the dim light helped keep his face unreadable. "I've grown used to functioning alone, Eggsy, I believe you know that, or guessed as much. And until recently, I was content to go on as I have been for some years. But lately my life as it stands has been less satisfactory, and I'm afraid it's this realisation that has made me 'drive out here to sulk,' as you so delicately put it." He threw him a wry smile.

"Alright..." said Eggsy slowly, aware Harry was only part way through his rather stilted explanation of his behaviour.

"The crux of it is, Eggsy," he said, careful to keep his voice even, "that it's you who has made me realise I wish for something more." 

"What? How d'you mean?" Eggsy seemed surprised, but not panicked, which at this point was something.

"You've altered me Eggsy, irreversibly. I rather thought I was finished with all that."

"Finished with what?" 

"Love. I love you, you see," Harry said, not looking across to gauge Eggsy's reaction, keeping his gaze fixed on a frothy cluster of climbing roses instead, "something I never anticipated and am having some difficulty overcoming. I thought - or others informed me - " he thought back on Kay's frank advice given to him in the shooting range some days ago, "that telling you might be a good place to start with moving forward. I'm afraid I've been avoiding it for some time."

"Oh." The neat little frown on Eggsy's face confirmed the worst - that his feelings for Harry were platonic, familial at best, and Harry had fucked it all up.

"I apologise if I've made you uncomfortable Eggsy, it wasn't my intention, but I'm afraid I was finding it rather detrimental to leave it all unsaid," he said, in an appeal to smooth it all over sooner rather than later. "If I might ask you to keep it between the two of us for the time being? I know you and Roxanne - "

"No."

"I beg your pardon?" Harry finally stopped his examination of the roses and turned to look at him.

"No," Eggsy said, louder, face hardening into a frown. "What if I don't wanna keep it between us?"

"Eggsy please, this is difficult enough for me as it is, and I understand my feelings may be unwelcome - "

"Harry, shut it," he said sharply, and Harry's mouth clicked shut in surprise. For a moment, he was looking back at the sullen, determined boy he'd met outside Holborn police station again, who wouldn't take no for an answer. "What if I don't want to keep it just between us?" he said again, more softly. "What if said I love you too?"

"I - " Harry floundered. As much as he'd been hoping to hear it, he hadn't truly expected it. There was no answer he could give to match the swooping, sickening happiness it brought him. He hardly dared believe it, in fact. It was only the expectant, desperate look that Eggsy was giving him that made him find his voice. "Then I would say that we have a few things to talk about, you and I."

~

_Love's the same old sad sensation,_  
_Lately I've not slept a wink,_  
_Since this half-pint imitation_  
_Put me on the blink._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah turns out it's four parts, not three. Smushy love confessions are harder to write than I remember.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the traditional close with the payoff chapter. I upped the rating a little.  
> Once again, the lyrics are all from the song _Bewitched_ and definitely not by me. I'm so pleased I finally got to use them in a fic.

_When he talks he is seeking_  
_Words to get off his chest,_  
_Horizontally speaking_  
_He's at his very best._

~

It was almost dark when they finally came back in from the rose-scented garden, side by side in a silence not quite awkward, but a bloody long way from comfortable. Eggsy was still fucking reeling from all they'd said. That Harry didn't think of him paternally, or just wanted a quick fuck, that he _loved_ him, was all he'd wanted to hear for months now, and he was having trouble believing that he'd said it at all. It had been on Harry's mind a long time too, from how well rehearsed his little speech seemed to be, words he must have gone over in his head time and time again. How brittle, already defeated, he'd seemed as he attempted to smooth over his admission of feelings he was sure Eggsy himself didn't reciprocate. Which seemed fucking unbelievable - how could he not see? Apparently he'd just needed to be surrounded by all his weird old shit and lingering parental issues to speak up about it and let it all out. Fucking repressed posh people. Not that Eggsy could talk mind - he was equally as guilty of bottling things up this time, being so utterly oblivious to how Harry felt about him too. That he'd finally been able to admit it all to Harry himself... fuck, it was too much. 

"Are you cold?" Harry's quiet question broke through his scattered thoughts. 

"What?" Eggsy blinked, bringing himself back to the here and now as Harry gently ushered him back in to the sitting room. "Oh, yeah a little bit I s'pose. Why?"

"You look a little shivery, darling."

"I - " fuck. It was all very well talking about love and shit, but to hear such a domestic endearment, affectionate normalcy, threw him out of whack all over again. In the nicest way possible though. "Yeah. They shut you off bruv? You forget to pay your heating bill?" He shook his head in mock disappointment.

"Not quite. I cancelled all the utilities after my mother moved away. What with nobody living here and my intentions never to come back to the place, it seemed rather pointless, don't you think?"

"Well yeah, but we're here _now,_ and it's fucking cold."

"I think that between us, we're more than capable of lighting a fire," Harry shot him that funny little sideways look like he did from time to time, amusement and something of a challenge just about concealed under a layer of polite innocence, "don't you?"

So that was what they did. Located the well-dried pile of logs at the back of the house along with some matches from the kitchen, and built a fire in the fuck-off massive fireplace in the sitting room, and sprawled around in front of it, as much as Harry would sprawl, that was. Even when he was relaxed, stretched out on the dusty rug opposite Eggsy, he looked neat and purposeful, at ease but not slovenly, like Eggsy knew _he_ did. The orange flicker of the fire caught on his glasses, cufflinks, the face of his watch, made everything look more tangible and unreal all at once. Eggsy wasn't sure where to look.  
There was a veritable wealth of long life food hidden away in the kitchen cupboards, dried goods and cans of things and UHT milk, proper end of the world shit. Like the cast of The Walking Dead would give their right arm for. Probably literally. They picked at it in front of the fire a while, not saying a lot other than the odd comment about the food. Eggsy felt at a bit of a loss for what to do next. After what they'd said to each other earlier, he'd expected everything to just sort of fall into place - it was all out in the open, and that was the hardest part, right? But there they were, hours later, still going on as though neither had spoken up at all.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" He blurted, when he could no longer sit there eating cold baked beans from the can with an antique fork and pretending nothing had changed. It was as good a question to start with as any. Apart from 'can I kiss you now?' maybe. 

Harry sighed, a mix of relief and resignation, before saying plainly, "I was afraid to."

"You?" Eggsy said dubiously. _"You_ were afraid?" 

"Yes, Eggsy. It does happen, you know."

"The fuck did _you_ have to be afraid of?"

"I don't have a good answer for that," Harry looked away for a moment, tight lipped, peering guiltily into his can of fruit salad. "That you might or might not feel the same were equally unnerving possibilities. I foolishly thought I'd be better off living with the uncertainty."

"Right." It should have made sense, considering how similar a thought process Eggsy had trapped himself in, but for Harry to doubt that Eggsy felt anything other than head over heels for him was mental. "What made you change your mind?

"Kay, oddly enough. Gave me somewhat of a pep talk."

"Really?" Eggsy liked Kay, they had a fair bit in common as far as their rough backgrounds went, but the thought of talking to him about _feelings_ was... "Shit."

"Yes. I fear I shall never be able to look at him across the table quite the same," he said wryly. "How about you?"

"Me?" said Eggsy, feigning ignorance and digging with sudden purpose through a bag of peanut M&Ms to find a green one.

"You also chose to say nothing," he could feel Harry watching him, and kept his own attention fixed on the wood burning in the grate, "I presume there was a reason for it."

"Yeah," there was no use ignoring it, now that Harry had asked him outright. "Same thing, I s'pose, except it was Rox what gave me the kick up the arse I needed. I - I couldn't have fucking bared it if you'd said no, Harry," he said quietly, dragging his eyes away from the fireplace to look across at him. "And I was worried that even if you did say yes, it would've been for different reasons than me, y'know?" It seemed a lot harder to put words to it now than it had before. Everything just sounded like an excuse. 

"We've both been rather stupid, I feel."

"Yeah," he huffed out a laugh, scrunched up the empty chocolate packet and threw it in the fire, the plastic burning quickly in a surge of green-blue. "Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you now?"

"...Alright."

Eggsy moved tentatively, but with determination, across the rug - dimly noting how ugly it was in one of those weird, out of body moments - to where Harry sat. They sat in silence a hair's breadth away from each other, simply looking, luxuriating in the moment of 'not quite,' when everything that was happening in that moment would be looked upon later as 'before.' Harry was waiting for him to move first, face carefully still, an odd little courtesy that Eggsy found equally endearing and exasperating. The kiss was slow and sweet, no more than a press of his lips to Harry's, and their only point of contact. And yeah Eggsy had thought about kissing Harry a lot, but it was always more abstract than this and usually followed by a wank, so at first he wasn't quite sure what to do with that careful, tender kiss that made him ache. 

He parted his lips a little in invitation and Harry took the hint, deepening the kiss and drawing him in close. Eggsy crawled into Harry's lap, one leg each side of his hips, the heat of the fire all along one side of his body, cheek so hot from it it almost itched. The flames were still reflecting in the lenses of Harry's glasses, bright and blank and obscuring his eyes, so Eggsy pulled them off and threw them aside on to one of the armchairs. Harry blinked at him, eyes adjusting.

"I hope for your sake that Merlin didn't see that."

"And I hope for your sake they were already turned off."

He wanted to burrow his way under Harry's chin and never come back out, familiar and safe and fucking _loved,_ but even more than that, he wanted what the both of them had been denying themselves. So he nosed his way along to kiss at Harry's neck instead, soft and quick, started unbuttoning to slip his fingers under Harry's shirt, that first touch of warm skin making his blood run hotter and breath come heavier, and considered what to do next. He kind of wanted to blow him, something he'd been thinking about longer than pride would allow him to admit, but then he wouldn't be able to see Harry's face properly. The both of them were too wrung out and already close to the edge for a good and proper fucking, never mind the fact that he really couldn't be arsed to dig through Harry's end of the world stash to find some poor substitute for lube. _Hands it is then._

He pulled off his shirt as he leant backwards in Harry's lap, arching his back and smirking, mouth hot and tingling, with the intention of giving him a bit of a show. He dragged his fingers down his chest in a move so textbook it was almost laughable, but there was fuck all funny about the way Harry's eyes followed the trail of his fingertips. Sure he had Harry's undivided attention, he slid his hand under the waistband of his jeans, the sucked in breath at his own touch not quite so put on as he meant it to be. Despite Harry watching his little performance intently, the need to touch him won out, and he was back tugging at Harry's clothes before long.

Harry let him undress the both of them, watching with a fond smile and dark eyes when Eggsy slipped his shirt off his shoulders. He tilted his head down for another kiss, Harry's hands firm on his back to balance him, their skin made hot to the touch by the fire. The room was heavy with the smell of hot metal and woodsmoke, the sound of their breathing and the crackle of burning wood. The fact that Eggsy kicked over his empty Heinz can as he pulled himself further into Harry's lap went unnoticed. He rolled his hips down, delighting in the hitch of Harry's breath as he gathered Eggsy close to bite hard at his shoulder, their hands and cocks bumping as they reached to touch each other, messy and inelegant and perfect, each breath, each kiss, each roll and push and drag drawing them closer to the edge.

~

The fire had died down, low but still burning hot, dim embers making the outline of Harry's face stark black and orange. The pair of them were twisted up in the pile of musty smelling tartan blankets Harry had dragged out of a cupboard in the hall, rough and scratchy against their bare skin. But they kept the cold out, which was better than nothing in Harry's weird, empty, looked-like-it'd-been-abandoned-in-the-apocalypse house, full of sheet-covered stuffed animals and furniture he'd be afraid to sit on. Eggsy's left foot was sticking out and fucking freezing compared to the rest of his body, with the heat of the fire and blankets and Harry, and he quickly drew it back into the mess of blankets to tuck between Harry's calves. He felt more than heard Harry hiss at his cold toes. And it was all so fucking sickeningly perfect, but... 

"You know we'll have to go back soon. Face the real world again?" he said quietly. They'd have to go back home, to work, his family. It didn't feel as though something so big as what he felt about Harry could be fitted back into his life now he'd let it out. 

"This is the real world, as far as I'm concerned" Harry said simply, voice rough with drowsiness as he pressed a kiss to the top of Eggsy's head, arms tight around his middle. "And you're stuck with me now darling, whether you like it or not." 

"Pretty sure it's the first one," Eggsy grinned and cuddled up closer, pressed his cold foot to Harry's leg again just to hear him tut about it. How he felt about Harry might have been a big thing, but Harry was right, it was just as much a part of him as the rest of it, and fucked if he was going to go without it. 

~

_I'm wild again, beguiled again,_  
_A simpering whimpering child again._  
_Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thats's that. Ta :)  
> Not 100% happy, but I needed to get it done. I feel like this is one of the most 'me' fics I've ever written, which is probably why so few people are reading it haa. But thanks to those that have. I want to have the sequel to the horseriding AU up in a few days, but I think that's being pretty optimistic.


End file.
